


(Literally) Blind Justice

by agberts



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Homestuck, Marvel
Genre: Crossover, F/F, F/M, Lawyers, M/M, Modern Day, Superheros, Terezi gets shit done, beta kids and trolls, i say human, matt murdock and terezi pyrope are practically the same person, mostly human, no trolls all human, poorly done references to a bunch of superheros, somewhat mutant?, spiderman and daredevil are best friends for life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-01-27 19:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1720430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agberts/pseuds/agberts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terezi Pyrope just got a job at the DA's office, which is everything that a young lawyer could ever want. When her first case is against the infamous Matt Murdock, Terezi realizes that something is seriously up with the one other blind lawyer in New York City. In her quest to figure out the truth, Terezi finds herself facing down the supervillains, regular villains, and quite a few strange friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You've Got Mail

**Author's Note:**

> God, this is my first fic here! At this point it is pretty un-betaed so any mistakes are my own. But basically, I am in love with Daredevil (he is number one on my list of superheros that I think are awesome). And you know who else is exactly like Daredevil? Terezi Pyrope. So this is pretty gratuitous, except for the pairings. I don't really ship Dave and Terezi but I think that it works in this case. What a weird crossover. I'm going to stop typing before I embarrass myself.

Your name is TEREZI PYROPE and you just got mail. Mostly, it’s the usual collection of junk. A bill (from your landlord), an ad for a yoga joint (which you totes don’t need), you know, normal junk. It is the letter at the bottom that catches your eye, or nose really. (Being blind means that most axioms don’t quite work.) Heavy paper and dark blue ink that reminds you faintly of your room mate.  
You take great pleasure in shredding open the envelope. The letter inside, much to your surprise, isn't written in braille. Obviously this wasn’t your neighbor’s mail (again) or Vriska's (you would have still ripped it open). This was a certified letter just for you. The idea that someone wrote to you gives you tingles. What is even better was the contents of the letter.  
You waste no time contacting your best friend. (Being blind doesn't stop you from chatting up your friends.)

gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG]

GC: D4V3! GU3SS WH4T H4PP3N3D TO M3 TOD4Y  
TG: what?  
GC: 1 TOLD YOU 4LR34DY TO GU3SS  
GC: 4CTU4LLY, 1 DON’T KNOW 1F YOU C4N  
GC: B3C4US3 TWO D4YS 4GO YOU TOLD M3 NOT TO G3T MY HOP3S UP  
GC: 4ND 1 H4D TO R3LY ON K4RK4T FOR MOR4L SUPPORT  
TG: god  
TG: you got the job didnt you  
TG: now i look like i just tried to drown the bag of kittens that are your dreams  
TG: ...  
TG: you did get the job right  
GC: DUH. I C4NT B3L13V3 YOU 3V3R DOUBT3D M3  
GC: 1S 1T NOT YOUR JOB 4S 4 COOL K1D TO 1NSP1R3 3V3RY CH1LD TO FOLLOW TH31R DR34MS  
TG: you are totally right  
TG: i have failed all of the small children  
TG: tonight they will go hungry  
TG: not because they are hungry for food  
TG: but because they are hungry for dreams  
GC: YOU B3TT3R GO S4V3 THOS3 HUNGRY CH1LDR3N D4V3 STR1D3R  
TG: i will do my best not to disappoint those millions of hungry kids looking up to me with their big watery eyes and growling stomachs  
TG: there is  
TG: wait shit  
TG: my boss is coming back around  
TG: gotta dash  
TG: grats on the job  
turntechGodhead [TG] has now disconnected

You run your fingers over the letter once more, not reading, just relishing in the feel of success. Your entire life, you have looked up to Matt Murdock. He’s like a cooler (only by a little), older (only by a lot), more successful version of you. For instance, both of you had lost your eyesight as young children. Both of you also had passed the bar test. Well, the similarities pretty much ended there, so maybe the two of you weren’t as alike as you would like to think. But how many blink lawyers were there? You gotta stick with your own kind. Now you were able to make it big in the Big City.  
The DA’s office, you thought in reverence. You actually got a job at the DA’s office. Nothing can stop you now. Justice will rain down across New York City, with you at the head of the storm. Like one of the X-men, except more law abiding, so like one of the Avengers. Yeah, maybe not. This seems to be getting a tad out of hand. You take a deep breath and reminded yourself that you are a lawyer. Not a superhero. Not (really) a mutant (smelling and tasting colors totally doesn’t count). Just a young lawyer about to hit the big time.  
When Vriska gets home, she congratulates you ruffling your hair and shortening your cane by a half inch. You know that she knows that you know that she shortens your cane, but saying anything would take the fun out of your relationship. “Now that you’re gonna have enough money to get your own apartment are you gonna stop bumming off of me?” she says in her teasing voice, pitched perfectly to annoy you.  
“No way!” you shout, punching her in the arm. “You may be cranky all the time, but do you really think I would leave everyone else behind?”  
Vriska pinches you in retaliation, hard, but not enough to leave a mark, “You would be miserable without me. And who would make your food? Or remind you to let spiders out the window instead of crushing them?” For someone deathly afraid of spiders, your roommate sure has a weird thing about killing them.  
“Speaking of food...” you say, remembering a promise that you made earlier. A promise that you totally meant to tell Vriska about.  
Vriska pinches her nose, “You invited people over didn’t you.”  
“It was movie night anyway! John and Tavros were already coming over. I just happened to invite a bunch of other people too,” you try to explain in a calm, steady voice. Vriska is about to explode and making any sudden movements or loud noises might send her off the deep end.  
“You didn’t tell me about this why?” she asks in a quiet voice. Not the quiet “I’m talking to a baby animal” voice (not that Vriska had ever used this voice before). Not even the quiet “I think there is someone else in our house” voice (which Vriska had used before). This is the quiet “shit is about to go down and you are totally at fault” voice.  
“I was hoping that you would be pulling an extra shift and wouldn’t get here until after the party had already started,” you say sheepishly. It was a Friday night, and your roommate would sometimes not come home until the wee hours of the morning.  
Vriska collapses in a chair with a dramatic sigh, “Wake me up when they get here.” You shrug. Maybe letting Vriska sleep through the party will make her more amenable to help clean up in the morning. Wandering into the kitchen, you wonder if you have any chips.  
Practically everybody on the floor shows up to your apartment. Karkat and John show up first. “Congratulations,” Karkat says just a bit too loudly. He gives you a tight hug (he’s not strong enough for it to hurt).  
John follows suit with his own hug. Years of police training and weightlifting make his hug uncomfortable. “I knew you could do it,” he tells you, a smile brighter than a summer’s day. It takes Karkat tapping his shoulder for him to realize that you are no longer able to breathe. For a pretty scrawny kid, John has some pretty serious muscles. You find yourself respecting him all the more. (Seriously, you just hope Equius doesn’t try to hug you. Then you would really be in trouble.)  
The evening passes in a blur of drinks, friendship, and shitty Nic Cage movies. Your last weekend as a free woman. After this, your entire life will be nothing but lawyer-ing and justice. “I don’t think the people at the DA’s sleep,” Rose confides in you. She spends plenty of time with the Police Department and the DA’s office, she probably knows best. “I don’t want to find you passed out at your desk when you are supposed to be at court,” she says like it has happened before. (It probably had).  
“Do well on your first case and I might write a fluff piece on you,” Dave whispers in her ear like its a secret.  
“Wouldn’t you rather write about superheros? That’s what ninety-nine percent of the Daily Bugle is about. No one cares about lawyers,” You say back at a normal volume.  
Dave ponders this, “Superheros are way overdone. Writing about a real hero is so ironic it passes the line into actually cool. Try and make sure that your first case is a supervillain. Then I can write about you.”  
“No Dave,” you tell him in your super serious voice, “Write about justice.” This just sends him into a fit of laughter. You can’t help but join in. From across the room, you could almost swear that Jade winked at you. But you are blind. What do you know?


	2. A Week of Fridays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh, two updates in as many days? I feel like this story is getting a bit out of hand. To bad that I am completely enamored with it now. This chapter features real plot and the first mentions of Spider-Man. (Which may have been a little heavy handed.) Also, this chapter features my lack of knowledge of court proceedings, so that is glossed over mostly. Anyway, it was nice getting some feedback on the last chapter (my first kudos's) so if you want me to write more, than please comment or kudos.

You never thought that you could hate Fridays. C’mon, Fridays are the highlight of the week. The work week is over, the weekend is starting. Fridays used to be your favorite days. You would often go out to one of Vriska’s bars (which always reek of something off putting, akin to rotting fruit), or one of Dave’s clubs (not your favorite, the stobe lights can affect your ability to see), or even wander around downtown with Karkat (in which Karkat yells at people and you laugh). But no. Not any more. Now Fridays were your least favorite day.  
Maybe this week was just a week of Fridays. Even though it had all started out so hopeful, now it was just shit. An utter free-for-all of injustice and strife. You kind of want to cry.

Monday  
Your first day and you couldn’t possibly be more excited. The cherry red suit from two years ago that had just been hanging in your closet finally has a chance to shine. Vriska takes one look at you and you can taste her scowl from across the room. “Let me do your hair,” she says, pushing you towards the bathroom. “I don’t hate you enough to let you walk in on the first day looking like you were chewed and then spat out.” When she brushes your hair, it is probably only a tad harder than need be.   
John had offered to drive you to work, seeing as your fantastic dream job was only a block and a half away from the police station. He was already driving Dave, he had told you, taking you to work would be just as easy. Both of them greeted you outside your door.   
“Terezi Pyrope, fancy new lawyer, reporting for duty,” you cackled. John looked at you with a raised eyebrow. Dave, on the other hand, saluted you with a straight face. “Aren’t you supposed to announce yourself when you are in the presence of a blind girl?” you tease.  
“Dave Strider, reporter extraordinaire, reporting for duty,” Dave said quickly.  
“And John Egbert is also here,” John says pouting. At this point, he’s probably realized that you two are having fun at his expense.  
“Good,” announces Dave, “I was worried that you had gone missing. Did you know, if you don’t say your name in the presence of a blind person, you technically stop existing?”  
“I can’t believe you two still do this. We all know Terezi can see perfectly well,” John whined. You and Dave laughed.  
In the car, Dave was furiously cleaning his camera. It had been almost a month since he had last used the thing. You had almost thought he had forgotten about his side hobby. “What’s up with the lens?” you ask, peering over the top of the front seat. (As the newest carpooler, you got stuck in the cramped back seat. At least John had lowered the glass wall.)  
“New guy at work. Some stupid, upstart kid. He’s been selling hero pics to the Bugle for years,” Dave explained. You are surprised that the glass hasn’t cracked yet.  
“What’s his name?” John asks.  
“P-something,” Dave says. He knows the kids name, but he would never admit it. That would be too much like acknowledging that the guy is an actual person deserving of respect.  
“This. Is. Fascinating. Dave, please tell us more about this guy. Can I have his number? If you’ve only just started working with him and you’re already this annoyed; imagine how much more annoyed you’ll be if he has my help!” you say.  
“Don’t even think about Terezi,” Dave replies, dead serious. Or, as dead serious as you could possibly be with those stupid sunglasses on.  
Once John pulls up in front of the Daily Bugle, Dave all but races out of the car. John whispers, “That was the best ride to work I’ve ever had with Dave.” You smile back, showing as many of your teeth as possible. It isn’t a secret that anything with you is infinitely more fun than anything without you.

You meet the District Attorney herself. Kathy Malper, who smells as cherry as your suit. You congratulate yourself on having picked the perfect outfit for the occasion (even though you went with it only because you were craving fruit this morning).  
“You are probably wondering why I hired a blind lawyer,” Malper says from her leather chair. She seemed perfectly relaxed in her office full of Red Sox memorabilia. You, perched on a rickety chair, not so much.   
You want to say that you aren’t wondering. You want to say that it was your excellence in pursuit of justice that persuaded her. Not that you can really lie. “I - Well, to be honest, a little bit. Yeah,” you eventually mutter out. (The pros of telling the truth outweighed lying in the end.)  
“I’m gonna be honest with you. Because I have a feeling that I’m gonna like you. I hired you simply because the DA’s office needs someone that they can send up against Murdock. He can’t use his blind excuse if his opponent is a younger lawyer who is also blind,” Malper tells you in a low voice. You cannot help smiling. This kind of ruthless manipulation is giving you the shivers. Malper really lives up to her nickname of being the Dragon Lady.  
“Cool. So, what’s my first case?” you answer. Inside you are reeling. If Malper isn’t lying to you (you aren’t smelling any deceit) than you will actually get to go up against your hero, Matt Murdock, in court. 

Tuesday  
Your first court appearance is on Thursday, which leaves you only two days to get ready for your first case. Malper wasn’t willing to send you to battle against Murdock unless she saw you could actually win a case.   
It was a pretty cut and dry case. A known smuggler had been caught red handed, trying to sell drugs to an undercover officer. All you needed to do was show up to court and hand over the evidence to the judge. You were positive that this thing wouldn’t go over a few hours.   
You make sure to brag about it to Vriska. On Thursday night, she’ll come home smelling like alcohol and you’ll smell like victory.

Wednesday  
You’re reviewing the file one last time before you head home. When something strikes you as odd. It is not the tiger tattoo on the perps face (the one that got him his nickname Claw). It is not the huge amount of cocaine that was found on his person and in his apartment (that’s what he got busted for last time). It was what else was found in his apartment. Namely, nothing.  
You bring up your concerns to one of the other lawyers still in the office. “Kid,” he says, “You are way overthinking this. Course there’s nothing in that apartment. Wouldn’t want anything valuable to be taken when other dealers swung by to pick up packages.”   
That night, staring up at the ceiling, you feel unsure.

Thursday  
Your first day in court. Honestly you don’t even want to think about it. For some ungodly reason, the defense lawyer (some skeezy slumbot) had thought it would be totally okay to withhold important evidence until right before you were about to send the perp to jail. After the addition of a mysterious letter (completely blank except for the typed numbers 11243889903). Now you had to come back to court tomorrow to close a case that was supposed to be over before lunch.  
There were three jokes about you being blind. The first was about how you were the new Matt Murdock, and here’s hoping that you don’t turn vigilante too. (Though this was never proven. It is still super unlikely that Murdock is Daredevil.) The second came when someone whispered (loud enough for everyone to hear) that they hoped you didn’t trip walking up to the Judge’s stand. The third made an appearance shortly after the letter. “Couldn’t see all the evidence, I guess.”   
You call Dave, seeing if he wants to meet you for dinner.  
“Sorry Terezi. I’m not sure how Parker is doing it, but holy shit this kid is good. I have to work on actual reporting now that he’s a full-timer,” Dave replies. You can feel that he is about to make up some shitty metaphors that describe how Parker is like an owl-eating slug lamp. Neither of you have the time for one of Dave’s rants.  
You go back to office to review the case more. Karkat calls you at eleven. Not so gently, he reminds you that you need sleep. His loving expletives are close to blowing out your phone’s speakers. You catch the subway home. Clutching your cane close the entire ride. You don’t smell anything like victory. Vriska makes no comment, but smirks knowingly. (You can’t help noticing that she stayed up waiting for you to get home.)

Friday  
You feel certain that when you tell your children about this day, they will never believe you. Hell, when you go home tonight, you doubt that anyone will believe what happened. The day had started out so promising.  
The letter may have slowed the proceedings, but was not good enough evidence to stop Claws from going to jail. You were confident (almost) that you would be able to close the case today.   
That was before the judge caught fire. (Not like, someone threw a match at his robe and it started blaming.) The judge caught fire. You whisper it out loud to reassure yourself that it actually happened.   
You had the case in the bag, you had just finished with your closing statement. The defendant's lawyer reeked of defeat. Claws smelled of nervousness. Now you realize that Claws knew about the judge’s light show and was getting impatient.   
Walking carefully back to your seat, you had your back to the judge. You felt the heat on your back when the judge went up. Startled, you almost dropped your cane. You turned around to look, only to taste acrid smoke and smell burning. For a moment you were truly blind. A police officer grabbed you and dragged you out. Not exactly your finest moment.  
You sit on the curb, out of the way of the firetrucks. Wishing that everything didn’t suck. You could smell the blue on blue of John before you could hear him. “Hey Terezi. I came as soon as I could. You should have answered your phone. Everyone has been calling you,” John says, immediately launching into one of his world famous mother hen rants.  
“I left it in the courtroom,” you explain. If you hadn’t been so damn scared, you would have had the mind to actually go grab your briefcase.  
“I’ll go see if any of the firefighters pulled it out,” John says leaving. (Luckily it was untouched by the flames.)  
You are stepping through the door of your apartment when you realize that you have no idea what happened to Claws.


	3. Old Suits and New News

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I totally hated how in Dark Victory it took like a million years for Dick and Bruce to actually fight crime together. This chapter almost fixes this for this story. Also, apologies for talking about DC when writing a Marvel story.

“TZ, I don’t want to alarm you, but your laptop is infected with a crazy nasty virus,” Sollux says with his customary lisp. He is seated on your couch, is hogging your wifi, and is generally driving you crazy. (You keep him around, he’s too good at computers to just drop him.)  
You lean over to get a good luck at his screen. “Looks fine to me. It’s been running like normal.”  
“Yeah,” Sollux says patronizingly, “This virus doesn’t work like that. It’s no destroy your computer bug. This thing hunting down information.”  
You snort, “Because I totally have important stuff on my computer.” Most of the memory is devoured by your art. You tell Sollux as much.  
Sollux continues to type, “What about work stuff? You work for the DA’s office, right? You could have all sorts of crazy shit on here that you don’t think is important.”  
You have to admit he’s right. “Can you fix it?” you ask. Sollux shrugs, still typing. He’s half way done with removing virus already.  
Boredom hits you after only sitting with Sollux for four minutes. You’ve already carefully examined your toes and picked all the junk out from underneath your fingernails. You start twitching, unused to sitting in one place for so long. “I will never understand how you passed the bar exam if you can’t sit still for long enough for me to fix your fucking computer,” Sollux says. You take this as permission to go do something more interesting. (Namely, bothering Kanaya.)

gallowsCalibrator [GC] has begun pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA]  
GC: K4N4Y4  
GA: Oh Hello Terezi  
GC: WH4T 1S GO1NG ON? 4R3 YOU H4V1NG 4N 4D3QU3T3 D4Y??  
GC: 1T H4S L1T3R4LLY B33N Y34RS S1NC3 W3 T4LK3D  
GA: I Saw You Last Week  
GA: In Fact  
GA: I Planned To Come Over And Visit You Today  
GA: I Finished Fixing Your Suit  
GC: TH3 R3D ON3?????  
GA: Indeed  
GA: Can I Bring It Over Now  
GC: H3LL  
GC: Y3S  
GC: 4S LONG 4S YOU DON’T M1ND SOLLUX  
GC: H3’S OV3R F1X1NG MY COMPUT3R  
GA: Did You Let Karkat Use it  
GA: I Thought You Had Learned Your Lesson From Last Time  
GC: 1 4M OFF3ND3D  
GC: K4RK4T H4S GON3 NOWH3R3 N34R MY COMPUT3R  
GA: I Am At Your Apartment Right Now  
GA: Please Let Me In  
GA: Gamzee Is Out Here  
grimAuxiliatrix [GA] has disconnected  
gallowsCalibrator [GC] has disconnected

You race to the door, ready to rescue Kanaya. In your entryway, she is as tall as ever. Kanaya glares on last time at the juggalo before coming into Terezi’s apartment. “Hey Kanaya!” you greet. She hands you a neatly wrapped package. Underneath the waxy cardboard smell of the paper, you can smell the comforting cherry of your favorite suit.  
“Sup Kanaya,” Sollux says from the couch.  
“Greetings Terezi, Sollux. It is a pleasure to see you,” Kanaya demurs. In an alternate lifetime, you are positive that Kanaya would be some sort of royalty. She has all the mannerisms and kindness of a queen. She also has chainsaw skills that even the most bloody royal houses would respect.  
“Thanks for fixing the suit. I literally have no idea what I would do without you,” you tell her, clutching the package close to your chest.  
“I am happy to help in the pursuit of justice. There is no reason that someone catching on fire should ruin all the good luck that has built up in your suit,” Kanaya replies.  
“Want something to drink? We have water and soda in the fridge,” you ask, hostessing the shit out of your guests.  
“I’ll take a soda!” Sollux calls from the couch.  
“Water will be fine,” Kanaya answers. She accompanies you into the kitchen, helping to carry Sollux’s drink out to him.  
“Don’t spill that on my laptop. You’ll be paying for the replacement,” you warn him. He rolls his eyes, you only say shit like that to bother him.  
You have just sat down at the table, ready to gossip with Kanaya, when your phone starts buzzing. With a glance, you can tell that it’s Dave texting you. “Boys,” Kanaya says with a shake of her head. 

hey. turn on the tv. important. 

A moment later, another text comes through.

its about that lawyer you like. that murdock guy.

You are seated on the couch, remote in hand, faster than the speed of light. Kanaya raises a perfect eyebrow at your sudden absence from the table. Sollux hasn’t even noticed, being so wrapped up in computer stuff. “There’s something important going down on TV,” you offer as explanation.  
You quickly find your favorite news channel and wait for the exciting news. The news anchor, a brunette that you recognize vaguely from past viewings of this station. “In local news, the infamous lawyer Matt Murdock is the prime suspect in a murder investigation,” she says in a dull tone. You cannot contain your gasp. You turn up the volume even higher.  
“This morning, police came for Murdock in his own home, taking him into the local station for questioning. He, along with Meredith Jerems and Mark Dowyles, are all suspects in the death of Patrick “Claws” Kim. There is no further information at this time,” the woman on the TV announces. You fall off the couch in shock. You text Dave immediately.

HOLY SH1T  
i know right  
Before you can respond to Dave, a call comes in. The number isn’t one that you recognize. You answer tentatively. “Hello, Terezi Pyrope speaking.”  
“Pyrope,” says a familiar voice, “This is Malper. I’m calling you from my private number because this is an urgent matter.”  
“What’s wrong?” you ask, instantly worried. In the background, you can hear Kanaya turning down the television.  
A rush of static comes over the speaker; you assume that Malper is sighing. “How fast can you get down to the office?”  
You glance down at your watch, frowning. “Maybe half an hour. I don’t have a car, so I’ll need to get on the subway.”  
“Hire a taxi. You can bill the office. I need you here in fifteen,” Malper snaps before hanging up on you.  
“Who was it?” Sollux asks, proving that he had been paying attention the whole time. You jump a bit at the sound of his voice.  
You are already pulling on a blazer. “My boss,” you answer, “She wants be down at the office immediately.”  
“You do not mind if we stay here, right?” Kanaya asks, “I was planning on going out with Vriska later.”  
“Don’t care,” you say as you run out the door.

At the office Malper is pacing back and forth in front of your desk. She gives you a look that practically screams about-time-you-got-here. You can smell the nervousness coming off of her in waves. “You forgot your cane,” she says. You shrug in response. You don’t technically need it. It just makes you feel safer. “Doesn’t matter. I need to know if you’re ready for the biggest case of your career.”  
“Totally and completely ready,” you reply, ignoring the itching sensation that comes from lying.  
“Good,” says Malper, “You’ve heard of Murdock? Because he’s heard of you and wants you to defend him in court, if these charges go through.”  
If you had been holding something, you would have dropped it.


	4. Meet and Greet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, more character introductions. Will I ever fit in every single character I promised to shove in? Find out eventually? Finals week turned out to be the perfect time for me to update practically every day. As always, I live for comments and kudos. Sorry this chapter is so short though. I try to make myself write at least 1k before posting.

You get a call from John next. “Would you believe me if I told you something really crazy. Like really, really, really crazy?” he asks. You are sorting through all the information about the Murdock (!) case, it isn’t much, just the basics.  
“A lot of crazy things have happened today,” you answer casually. You doubt that anything John will say can top your news of the awesome Murdock murder. (Ooh, alliteration. You’re gonna have to call it that now.)  
John laughs, “Terezi, you don’t even comprehend how cool what I am about to tell you about is.”  
“Just tell me!” you whine. The faster he tells you his news, the faster you can rub his face in your radical case.  
“You heard about Murdock, right? Of course you did. He’s your hero. Well, anyways. He’s at the station right now. This station. Guess who he’s asking to represent him,” John said, speaking one hundred words a minute.  
Dammit, he beat you to the big news, “Me,” you say. You’re lucky that John can’t see that you’re pouting.  
“What are you waiting around for?” John asks, “Get down here and meet your hero. This is the guy that made you want to go to law school!” He’s got a point. You rush out of your door, filled with a bit of deja vu and a lot of excitement.  
The police station where John worked is in no way pretty. A short, stout building that smells of stale feet and ugly. You have only ever been twice. Today though, the building doesn’t seem quite so ugly. Today the building is holding something really really cool. Like super really cool.  
You wear your glasses so people don’t see your eyes (their appearance always bothered you after the accident) and ask why you don’t have a cane or a dog or some chipper boyscout with you. John is waiting for you when you walk in. You feel ambushed by his sudden onslaught of words.  
“Like first I can’t believe that Murdock is a suspect. No way that it was true. But the they brought him in and it was all like boom wow crazy. When he asked for you, that was even weirder. Have you seen the Nic Cage movie where he...” John can talk forever if you let him. You just kind of zone him out. You think instead of how cool Murdock is going to be.  
Murdock is in an interrogation room. You can smell the blue raspberry of two officers behind the glass. Murdock himself smells faintly of carrots and strawberries. You like him already. “Hello, Mister Murdock. I’m Terezi Pyrope, a lawyer working for the DA,” you introduce yourself. You make a move to sit down.  
“You don’t have a cane,” he remarks. You shrug, only to remember that he cannot see gestures.  
“Forgot it at home with all this excitement. I’ve been a big fan for a long time,” you try to play off forgetting your cane like it’s an everyday occurrence. You are usually better than this and mentally kick yourself for failing to keep up your image.  
Murdock stares at you, well, he was faced pointedly in your direction. His hands are folded on the table, he had obviously not been handcuffed. His own cane is gone though. “Today is not the best day to be a big fan of mine.”  
“I just hope that I don’t have to defend you in court. If they find evidence pointing towards someone else, then you’ll be off the hook,” you respond. Murdock makes you feel off balanced and inexperienced. “You are innocent, right?”  
“I doubt that a blind man could of killed Claws. I find myself in the position of being quite innocent,” Murdock responds. You start wishing that you could get him away from the police officers and have a real conversation.  
“I’m glad that you are giving me the chance to represent you,” you say. The conversation is over for now. There is really no way that they can talk with the vigilant police behind the two-way mirror. You hold out your hand and he shakes it. You wonder how he knew that your arm was extended. He may not be as blind as you thought.  
John offers you a ride, seeing as he’s off duty and you are already at the station. You almost fall asleep on the ride home, only the sudden ringing of your phone stops you from drifting off. Dave again. This is the second time today. “Strider?” John asks. You nod as you answer.  
“Hi Dave! Guess who's going to be Murdock’s lawyer!” you say immediately.  
“Judging on how excited you sound, its gonna be you,” Dave answers.  
“Correct! Ten points to the cool kid,” you say. John rolls his eyes beside you.  
Dave coughs over the line. “I’m so excited for you right now I cannot even put it into words. But I was wondering if I could bring someone over for dinner tonight?” Thursday nights were the traditional hangout nights. Dave and Sollux would come over, and sometimes John, Karkat, and Gamzee if they weren’t busy. Everyone would make food and they would all feast. It is your favorite day of the week.  
“Coworker?” you ask, strangely hesitant about asking what his answer might be.  
“You remember that Parker kid? He’s coming over,” Dave says.  
“Good,” you respond. You smile maliciously, thinking of all the hijinks you and this Parker could get up to together.  
“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I,” Dave says, hanging up.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay time for the first real author’s note. The most important news is that this fic now has it’s own tag on tumblr, so if you want updates on chapter posting, follow #lbjfic. Also, you can follow me on tumblr at worldclasshungergilbert. The second important thing is that chapters 1, 3, and 4 have all been beta’d by the-impossible-nerdfighter, so there should be generally less grammatical errors. There have been no changes to the story so you don’t have to go back and reread the those chapters (unless you want to). As always, I love getting feedback and it will make me write faster!  
> I am also sorry for the long wait between this chapter and the last. I promise that I was actually busy with stuff. Like meeting Mark Waid, who wrote the best run of Daredevil ever.   
> Also, Happy 75th birthday to Batman!!

Vriska has already started making her famous meatloaf and the kitchen smells like warm spices and mysterious meat products. Vriska’s biggest secret is what exactly goes in her meatloaf. Wondering keeps you up at night. “Want some help?” you ask, entering the small kitchen.   
“You have no idea how much I would appreciate that. I have so much food in the oven,” she answers. You grab a knife from the drawer and fruit from the counter.  
“I can’t even count how much food you have in the oven,” you joke, cutting up the fruit into small pieces. Fruit salad is pretty much your specialty, no one has your taste for color and your nose for taste. “Speaking of lots of things in something, Dave is bringing a coworker over.”  
Vriska curses, “I hope they don’t mind small portions. Rose and Kanaya are coming too. That’s, what? Nine people?”  
“Better hope that they don’t all bring chips,” you answer. About a year ago, there had been a huge fiasco at during the holidays. Everyone in the hall came down to your apartment and every single person brought doritos. Dave dubbed it the Christmas of Powdered Cheese. You giggle at the memory.

You check your phone around eight, Dave has texted you seven times. The most recent one alerted you that Dave is five minutes away. 

You greet Dave and Parker at the door, wielding your cane, acting the perfect blind girl. Parker smells a bit like Vriska, but with warmer undertones, something fruity and maybe a bit of cinnamon. Dave smells like irritation. The ride home must not have been pleasant for him to be so frowny. “Terezi Pyrope,” you say with a smile. Parker holds out a hand for you to shake - which you pointedly ignore. Dave elbows him, Parker doesn’t get the message.  
“Terezi, it’s Dave and Peter Parker,” Dave says in the polite tone most people use when addressing the blind.  
“I knew it was you, anyone else would just barge in,” you reply. “Come on in, dinner is almost ready. We’re just waiting on Tavros and John.”  
“Are you blind?” Parker (or Peter which was apparently his first name) blurted out unexpectedly. The apartment falls silent, leaving behind a thick tension.  
You simply laugh, “Nice observation skills Mister Reporter. I can see why Dave is so worried that you’ll steal his job.” Rose chuckles and you can smell the amusement rolling off Kanaya. Dave scowls at you, like you are revealing some big state secret.   
“Parker, these are my friends,” Dave says a bit sullenly. He gestures to each person as he lists off their names, “Terezi, who you just met, Karkat, John, Tavros, Gamzee, Rose, Kanaya, and...” He trails off, looking around the small apartment for Vriska.  
She emerges a moment later from the kitchen. She rakes her eyes over Peter, assessing him. Peter blushes cherry red under the scrutiny. “Vriska Serket, a pleasure to meet you,” she finally says.  
“The pleasure is mine,” he stutters out. His embarrassment is smells absolutely delectable to your finely-tuned nose. It must be a spider thing. Vriska was raised spider and Peter took quite a lot of pictures of a man who called himself a spider. They were literally a match made in arachnid heaven. 

“I’m impressed that he didn’t pull out the Spider-man pictures until after dinner,” Dave says later. You and he sit on the couch. He has his nose in the air, looking everywhere except where your friends are gathered. You wish that you were a bad friend. You really want to see those photos. Brand new, never printed Spider-man photos. You don’t have the guts to leave Dave behind. So you sit with him, miserable.  
“Why don’t you like him? He seems perfectly nice,” you ask quietly. Not that you need to be quiet, everyone is ohhh-ing over a particularly red smelling photo. Dave sprawls (more than he already had, which you didn’t think possible until about two seconds ago), tips his head back, and groans.  
“I don’t even know where to start with that kid. Half the goddamn time he doesn’t show up for work. The other half of the time he smells like he just ran a marathon. I don’t know. Something about him really throws me off,” Dave said. He glances at the group and grits his teeth, thinking that you won’t notice. You notice everything.   
“Why did you invite him to dinner if you dislike him so much?” you ask. You are legit curious.   
“If you took every feeling I have about the kid and turned them into cash, I would have sixty dollars for disliking him and one twenty for pitying him,” Dave replies.   
“With all that cash lying around, you could buy yourself a better camera,” Peter yells from across the room. If it wasn’t a weird thing to do, you would applaud him for decent hearing. You settle on cackling at the horrified expression you can only imagine is plastered across Dave’s face.


	6. <3< Spiderman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay time for the first real author’s note. The most important news is that this fic now has it’s own tag on tumblr, so if you want updates on chapter posting, follow #lbjfic. Also, you can follow me on tumblr at worldclasshungergilbert. The second important thing is that chapters 1, 3, and 4 have all been beta’d by the-impossible-nerdfighter, so there should be generally less grammatical errors. There have been no changes to the story so you don’t have to go back and reread the those chapters (unless you want to). As always, I love getting feedback and it will make me write faster! Sorry this chapter is shorter than usual.

Vriska has already started making her famous meatloaf and the kitchen smells like warm spices and mysterious meat products. Vriska’s biggest secret is what exactly goes in her meatloaf. Wondering keeps you up at night. “Want some help?” you ask, entering the small kitchen.   
“You have no idea how much I would appreciate that. I have so much food in the oven,” she answers. You grab a knife from the drawer and fruit from the counter.  
“I can’t even count how much food you have in the oven,” you joke, cutting up the fruit into small pieces. Fruit salad is pretty much your specialty, no one has your taste for color and your nose for taste. “Speaking of lots of things in something, Dave is bringing a coworker over.”  
Vriska curses, “I hope they don’t mind small portions. Rose and Kanaya are coming too. That’s, what? Nine people?”  
“Better hope that they don’t all bring chips,” you answer. About a year ago, there had been a huge fiasco at during the holidays. Everyone in the hall came down to your apartment and every single person brought doritos. Dave dubbed it the Christmas of Powdered Cheese. You giggle at the memory.

You check your phone around eight, Dave has texted you seven times. The most recent one alerted you that Dave is five minutes away. 

You greet Dave and Parker at the door, wielding your cane, acting the perfect blind girl. Parker smells a bit like Vriska, but with warmer undertones, something fruity and maybe a bit of cinnamon. Dave smells like irritation. The ride home must not have been pleasant for him to be so frowny. “Terezi Pyrope,” you say with a smile. Parker holds out a hand for you to shake - which you pointedly ignore. Dave elbows him, Parker doesn’t get the message.  
“Terezi, it’s Dave and Peter Parker,” Dave says in the polite tone most people use when addressing the blind.  
“I knew it was you, anyone else would just barge in,” you reply. “Come on in, dinner is almost ready. We’re just waiting on Tavros and John.”  
“Are you blind?” Parker (or Peter which was apparently his first name) blurted out unexpectedly. The apartment falls silent, leaving behind a thick tension.  
You simply laugh, “Nice observation skills Mister Reporter. I can see why Dave is so worried that you’ll steal his job.” Rose chuckles and you can smell the amusement rolling off Kanaya. Dave scowls at you, like you are revealing some big state secret.   
“Parker, these are my friends,” Dave says a bit sullenly. He gestures to each person as he lists off their names, “Terezi, who you just met, Karkat, John, Tavros, Gamzee, Rose, Kanaya, and...” He trails off, looking around the small apartment for Vriska.  
She emerges a moment later from the kitchen. She rakes her eyes over Peter, assessing him. Peter blushes cherry red under the scrutiny. “Vriska Serket, a pleasure to meet you,” she finally says.  
“The pleasure is mine,” he stutters out. His embarrassment is smells absolutely delectable to your finely-tuned nose. It must be a spider thing. Vriska was raised spider and Peter took quite a lot of pictures of a man who called himself a spider. They were literally a match made in arachnid heaven. 

“I’m impressed that he didn’t pull out the Spider-man pictures until after dinner,” Dave says later. You and he sit on the couch. He has his nose in the air, looking everywhere except where your friends are gathered. You wish that you were a bad friend. You really want to see those photos. Brand new, never printed Spider-man photos. You don’t have the guts to leave Dave behind. So you sit with him, miserable.  
“Why don’t you like him? He seems perfectly nice,” you ask quietly. Not that you need to be quiet, everyone is ohhh-ing over a particularly red smelling photo. Dave sprawls (more than he already had, which you didn’t think possible until about two seconds ago), tips his head back, and groans.  
“I don’t even know where to start with that kid. Half the goddamn time he doesn’t show up for work. The other half of the time he smells like he just ran a marathon. I don’t know. Something about him really throws me off,” Dave said. He glances at the group and grits his teeth, thinking that you won’t notice. You notice everything.   
“Why did you invite him to dinner if you dislike him so much?” you ask. You are legit curious.   
“If you took every feeling I have about the kid and turned them into cash, I would have sixty dollars for disliking him and one twenty for pitying him,” Dave replies.   
“With all that cash lying around, you could buy yourself a better camera,” Peter yells from across the room. If it wasn’t a weird thing to do, you would applaud him for decent hearing. You settle on cackling at the horrified expression you can only imagine is plastered across Dave’s face.

You recently had a great talk with the Spider Man, in person, in the flesh, in the suit. The death of the judge, the one who exploded (remember?), had haunted you. After some mental discussion, (“Hey, TZ, wouldn’t be a great idea if you figured out what happened to the judge?” “Yeah, Dave could write an article about me.” “Then you could totally plan an unveiling during a high profile murder case.” “There is literally nothing that could go wrong with this plan.” It wasn’t much of a discussion.) you decided that it rested on your shoulders to investigate.   
It was at the courthouse that you met Spidey. He was swinging around, trying to stop the murder of some sort of lawyer or criminal or witness. What he was trying to stop is beside the point. The point here is that you saw THE SPIDER MAN and he saw you and you totally had this moment while he was whizzing through the air.  
When your eyes met, you could feel this sort of connection. If you were a superhero, you would try and fight this guy, like totally beat his ass down. As the fates (or horrorterrors if one were to ask Rose) would have it, you are just a civilian and therefore distinctly unqualified to take down the Man of Spiders. Maybe the rival like spark that flashes between you is actually Spiderman sensing that you are investigating a judge’s death while totally ignoring the cases where people are paying you to prosecute (or defend, which was more likely).   
You hurried into the courthouse through a side door, successfully bypassing the mess at the front entrance. A young aide, her name is Casey, flagged you down the moment she saw you. For such a short person, she sure could make an effort.   
“You have a new packet of evidence submitted by the other lawyer in the Murdock case,” she shouted happily from all the way across the room. You blushed as the other law related people loitering around turned to get a look of the total hot blind girl representing the man who was probably Daredevil.  
“Thanks Casey, I’ll look it over later,” you said as you collected the thick manilla (which fittingly smelled of Nilla Wafers) envelope.   
Casey probably made one of those Don’t-blind-people-need-things-read-to-them faces because she quickly offered her assistance.   
“I think that I can read this on my own, you don’t need to worry about me,” you showed off the sharpest, scariest smile that you could contort your face into.

That entire short flashback all leads you straight to the discovery that the new evidence that the other lawyer was submitting was complete bullshit. The fingerprints are inconclusive and the witnesses are certainly on the payroll of the prosecution. Now all you need is a judge (that isn’t also in the pocket of the prosecution) and you can get the entire case dismissed.  
Your name is TEREZI PYROPE and you are about to blow this shit WIDE OPEN. You march quickly down to the detention center to talk to Murdock. It’s still visiting hours and you have some IMPORTANT BUSINESS to get down to.   
The man (your very important client) seems unsurprised about the turn of events. He flips a coin, catching it right before it hits the table. You wonder if this new evidence was pulled up by one of Murdock’s many minions which he probably most definitely has.   
“You’ve done good, kid,” he says. He flips the coin again.  
You shrug. “We still gotta win that court case. We need a judge who will side with you.”  
The coin flips through the air, spinning and spinning. Murdock catches the coin a final time and sets it down on the table, heads up. He slides it across the table. You catch it. “Don’t worry. Luck is on our side.” Murdock stands up and motions to the guards.   
You examine the coin. It’s some old soft metal. Etched onto the tail side is the number four-thirteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Ayyyy nonymous for her very kind comment!!


	7. A Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Terezi confronts her client's partner.

You decide that it’s probably time to go down to meet your client’s business partners. You dress sharp, not wanting to look as green as you feel. Assessing yourself in the mirror, you realize that no matter how hard you try to look neat and tidy and experienced, you’re going to come off as a kid trying on her mom’s clothes. You sigh and quelch down any feelings of self doubt, because lawyers can smell that shit from a mile away, you know that you can. 

“You’re just a lawyer going to meet some other lawyers so you can get some dirt on a different lawyer because he’s the lawyer whose hired you to be his lawyer,” you say out loud, trying to cheer yourself up. It doesn’t work. Instead, you feel confused and tongue tied. Why does this always happen to you? You were so pumped after Murdock gave you that coin (which is now safely in the breast pocket of your suit); now you’re just deflated.

One last comb through of your hair and you’re out the door, walking stick in hand.

 

Nelson and Murdock Law Offices is located in brick building in the middle of Hell’s Kitchen. Inside, a bored doorman simply gestures to the pair of elevators. He doesn’t even notice that you’re blind. You don’t care either way, you’re pretty sure that the office is located ninth floor and you don’t need help finding the right button in an elevator. 

A woman who smells like pool chemicals and flowery perfume greets her with a cheery hello. “How can I help you?” she asks. 

“I’m Terezi Pyrope. Is Mister Nelson in right now?” you reply.

“Oh,” the woman says, “you’re Matt’s attorney. Mister Nelson is in his office right now. I’m sure that he would love to speak with you.” Her chair scratches against the wood floor as she moves out from behind her desk. She crosses the room and places a gentle hand on your elbow. “He’s right through here.” You follow along mildly, even though you dislike the secretary’s need to lead you through touch. 

Nelson’s office smells like printer ink and donuts. Your stomach reminds you that you skipped lunch earlier so you could get off earlier so you could have this meeting in the first place. Nelson is seated in his chair at his desk. You are led to a seat across from him.

“Terezi Pyrope, your partner’s lawyer,” you say, holding out your hand. The man takes and shakes it. 

“Foggy Nelson, your client’s partner,” he replies. The two of you share a laugh and feel slightly closer. You figure that this dude is pretty chill and probably has nice hair. You can’t tell because (despite your pretty rad other senses) you are in fact blind, but you’re pretty sure it’s super nice. 

“Sorry I didn’t show up earlier. I mean, I am Mr. Murdock’s lawyer,” you apologize. “But after the judge exploded, things kind of got crazy.”

Nelson laughed again. “Nothing is ever simple when Matt Murdock is involved,” he says. “I’m sure that you’re here to see if I think that Matt is guilty. So I’ll just say that he’s not. Matt’s not a murderer.”

“What is he then?” you ask. “If he’s not a murderer, who is Matt Murdock?”

“A blind lawyer. A man with a chip on his shoulder. Someone inspired by justice,” Nelson says. “A good man.”

You nod. “I’ve gathered that. I wanted to know if you had something different or new. Perhaps an alibi?”

“He doesn’t have an alibi?” Nelson asks. He whistles. “How are you arguing this?”

You shrug. “He has no motive. Why would he kill some two bit criminal? He doesn’t seem like a man who hangs out in alleys to beat up bad guys.” And as soon as the words are out of your mouth, you feel the air change. Nelson tenses and fear rolls off of him in waves. “Holy shit. You think that he actually did it.”

“No, I do not think that Matt Murdock killed Claw,” Nelson says. He’s not lying, but you’d have to be an idiot to think that he was telling the whole truth. You are not an idiot.

“Who do you think killed Claw?” you ask. Your grip on your cane tightens but you make an unprecedented effort to keep your posture relaxed.

“I don’t know,” he lies. Your good feeling about him from earlier dissipates.

You stand up. “I guess that’s all I need to hear,” you say. You walk to the door and turn back to him. “Smell ya later.”

Behind you, you can hear him dialing. You wonder who he’s calling but you’re already out of the office and headed toward the elevator. On the way down the elevator, you decide to call Dave. If there’s some sort of conspiracy going on with the death of Claw, you’ll need a journalist on your side. The two of you can be like Batman and Superman, but like, cooler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating for nine months. I've been working on "original things". This chapter is dedicated to thisteaistoosweet on tumblr for sending me such an ask about lbj.


End file.
